Cruel Clockworks
by Kurumaka
Summary: "He brushed the almost real locks of hair from the doll's face and behind his ear. His fingers brushed against a little bump. Confused, he sat the doll up, turning him around. The pale doll slouched in his grasp." [SKYLOX, Doll!Deadlox AU]
1. Chapter 1

The old, mostly rotten wooden stairs creaked under the weight they were forced to endure, even if it wasn't so much. The air was damp and smelled stale. The metal parts of the tower, like the railing and the giant gears were rusted, their original color falling down in little chunks.

Steps echoed is the silent place, doubling themselves as a tan boy climbed the seemingly never ending staircase to the very top of the old clock tower. In one of his hand was clutched a rusted iron key, the other's fingers loosely holding onto the railing that he really didn't believe wouldn't collapse.

After a lot of pauses, either because of his tiredness or fear of falling, the boy made it to the top.

With shaky hands, the inserted the rusted key into the keyhole on the single door that resided at the top, after swatting his way through the numerous, long abandoned spider webs. The lock made a loud clinging noise as the key twisted, it almost sounded like the whole tower moved with the creaking door.

The thick film of dust rose with the door's movement, the setting sun's rays reflecting on it, making the whole scenery look even more breathtaking. The boy's steps left a very visible footsteps on the remaining dust, marking his uncertain movements.

The top of the tower looked quite similar to a normal attic, with a few exceptions. There was a giant control panel by the right wall, connected to the tower's giant clock. The wall in front of him and the one on the left were made out of glass, letting in the slightly pinkish sunlight. The wall behind him had just the door he came in from and a wardrobe standing quietly in the corner.

Curious, the boy walked over to the wardrobe, pulling lightly on the door. Slightly creaking, the wooden structure refused to give in. Even when he pulled more, the only thing that gave in was the doorknob, falling apart and ending in his grasp.

Sighing, the boy did the only thing left; tried using the key. To his great surprise, the door budged, almost opening by itself. Immediately, he was crushed by an extraordinary weight, tumbling to the ground.

Groaning, he looked at the lump that crashed onto him, letting out a high pitched scream. A young man, not older than himself, was crushing him, with a lot more weight than his lanky body should've been able to. The tan boy pushed the other, pale male, off of himself, pulling himself up to his feet with the slight help of the wall.

The pale boy was left on the floor, resembling a fallen ragdoll, his limbs twisted in unnatural angles. Boy, now concerned, kneeled over the body, gently touching his chest through his white shirt. Blinking, he brought his hand back. The boy wasn't breathing. Instead, his chest was hard.

The tan boy raised one of his hands, examining it in the dimming sunlight. I was, in fact, made out of wood, and precisely painted over to perfectly resemble a pale human's skin. Its fingers were tightly grasping something.

The boy pried the fingers apart, uncovering a small gleaming key, not bigger than a palm. It was painted over white, but the paint was already coming off, along with it a bit of rust. The boy turned it around in his hand, watching it reflect the ever changing sunrays.

He turned the doll around, looking him over. He was once told about the old woman that used to be the tower's guard. She was old and lonely, so in her time, she managed to create her own son to aid her when she was too weak to operate the clock's mechanism. Never in his life would he think it was actually truth.

He brushed the almost real locks of hair from the doll's face and behind his ear. His fingers brushed against a little bump. Confused, he sat the doll up, turning him around. The pale doll slouched in his grasp.

The little bump on his neck turned out to actually be a small keyhole, cleverly hidden behind his brunet hair. The tan boy, with trembling hands, inserted the key, twisting it to the left.

The sound of gears turning and squeaking echoed in the big room, the doll's body vibrating slightly.

The boy pulled out the key after it wouldn't turn anymore, stuffing the thing into his pocket. The doll stirred in his hold, making the boy jump slightly. Slowly, he turned his head, exposing to the boy one of his velvet eyes. The boy's heart jumped at the sight.

A monotone, yet somehow gentle voice, came from the doll.

"Greetings."


	2. Chapter 2

The boy's heart beat loudly and erratically while the doll gazed at him with lifeless velvet eye.

"Why have you awaken me?" he asked, studying the boy's face.

"H-Hi…" the boy stuttered out.

Doll, obviously unsatisfied with the lack of answer, muttered, "Greetings," again.

The doll looked around the room with expressionless face. Its eyes fell upon the control panel, overrun by spider webs and dust bunnies. The doll rose, staggering a little before falling into a monotone, perfect walk, the joints in his legs creaking slightly, filling the silent air with a haunting echo.

He walked over to the clockwork panel, with a few practiced movements uncovering its contents. The doll reached his hand inside, fiddling with a few cogs and covered the panel back up. He moved to the wheel that resided on top of the panel, his wooden hands gripping it.

He moved it with ease, ignoring the ear shattering screeching of cogs and metal that wasn't used in ages. The tan brunet, still in his kneeling position by the wardrobe, shuddered and covered his ears.

"What are you doing?" he asked when the doll let go of the wheel, the echo of the sounds still wandering the room.

The doll turned his head in his direction, giving him an emotionless stare, "My work, of course," he said in the monotone, as if it was the most obvious thing ever.

The boy rose to his feet, dusting off his gray pants. He looked at the clockwork contraption, noting how the wheels and cogs leading to the lower parts of the tower were now moving perfectly. The doll stood still, ignoring the curious human that was now walking towards him, as if he was awaiting something.

A giant vibration shook through the tower, almost knocking the boy off of his feet. He caught himself, however, and watched the unfazed doll with wide eyes. Deafening sound followed the vibration, only a milisecond late, forcing the tan boy to cover his ears again, scrunching his eyes closed. It was followed by a lot more, but how many, the boy couldn't say; he still heard them echoing in his head and in the room long after they quieted.

As the room finally fell into silence again and the ringing in the boy's ears softened, the doll gazed out of the window, looking like nothing happened.

"Twenty one," he said, giving no explanation.

"W-What?" the boy stuttered out, one hand holding his throbbing head and the other grasping the wall for support, lest he loses his balance and tumbled down to the floor.

"It is exactly twenty one hours and eighteen seconds," the doll answered, walking to one of the windowed walls to overlook the passerby's.

The boy looked at the wall that held the giant clock, turning it around in his mind to confirm to himself that yes, it was really nine PM and now twenty three seconds now. How the doll was able to tell without even looking at the clock was beyond the boy.

"Who are you?" the doll asked, turning to the boy after getting seemingly bored of watching people that looked like ants from the height. The kids down there were excitedly pointing at the top of the tower like it was a new Ferris wheel in town, tugging at their parents' sleeves.

The boy understood them completely, the clock tower wasn't functional for so long the people actually forgot about it and once even wanted to take it down, but didn't, for the sake of historical value. The tower being functional again was a giant thing for the people of the town, especially the kids, as most of the never heard the giant clock's chiming. The boy could imagine it must've sounded pretty nice from far, since the others hadn't been nearly deafened by the clangs.

"My name is Sky," the boy answered, walking over to the doll and looking out of the window at the kids. He smiled gently at the sight.

"Are you related to Madame?" the doll asked, craning his neck to see what Sky found so funny.

"Madame?" Sky questioned, pushing away the locks of hair that fell into his eyes.

"So you are not. I should have known better," the doll mumbled, more to himself than actually speaking to Sky, "I am Deadlox, or rather, Ty, as Madame used to call me," he said louder.

"Who is Madame?" Sky asked with childish curiosity.

The doll looked at the teen, raising his hand in dismissal, but stopped midway. He might as well tell, seeing as the boy would now become his master, "Madame was my, what you would call, mother. She created me when she was too old and tired and unable to do the daily wind-up of the tower's clockwork."

The sun was already down, bathing the human and the doll in a faint moonlight seeping in through the glass panes. Sky gazed into the doll's lifeless, unblinking velvet eyes, his own honey pair scrunching up. The doll looked really distraught, his clothes faded and dirty, from the ages of lying forgotten in the wardrobe. His hair was flying in every direction, the long brown locks hiding his left eye. Overall, he looked really bad.

Sky grabbed the doll's hand, feeling the coldness and texture of the wooden parts that made up the hand. Deadlox just stared at him with a blank face – and Sky wasn't even sure if he was capable of expressing emotions – and let himself be tugged behind the teen.

The tan teen lead the doll out of the room, locking the door behind them. The journey down was much easier for the teen and Deadlox was keeping up with ease, his joint creaking.

The sounds were making Sky jump, so the put finding an oil can on top of his priorities.

"Where are we doing, Mister?" Deadlox asked as the two neared the bottom of the staircase.

Sky cringed inwardly and came to a sudden halt. He turned to the still doll and gazed him into eyes.

"Never ever call me 'Mister'," he whispered, clearly hearable in the silence, "I'm Sky."


	3. Chapter 3

The boy and the doll went out onto the street. The kids were still running around and cheering and looking up at the giant clock on the tower's side, even though it was silent now.  
Sky smiled as a little girl ran past them, her pink dress flowing behind her in the soft wind.  
Ty watched her, his neck craning as she disappeared behind a wall.  
Sky looked the doll up and down. The doll's clothes were dusty and old.  
"We need to get you new clothes," he mumbled.  
Ty nodded automatically, following Sky as he headed to the town square.  
Since he was taller than the doll, it wouldn't do to give him his own clothes, so he'd have to buy him something from the shop.  
The brunet boy left him standing outside as he went into the shop.  
It took him mere minutes to come out with a shirt and jeans. Ty was standing perfectly still, just like he had left him here.  
He grabbed the doll's hand, pulling him back to the tower. They ascended the stairway again. Ty didn't seem to mind the creaking boards one bit, so Sky tried not to either.  
When they entered the room again, it seemed more spacious in the setting sun. Sky handled the clothes to Ty. The doll took them, looking at Sky neutrally.  
"Change into them, Ty," Sky said, walking over to the window.  
The doll changer into the new clothes, leaving the old set laying on the ground. Sky looked him over again.  
The new shirt had long sleeved and his the joints of his shoulders, elbows and wrists. He nodded to himself at his choose.  
He looked at the clock on the wall and sighed as he read it backwards.  
"I have to go now," he said.  
Ty nodded.  
"I'll come to you tomorrow," Sky promised. He ran out of the room and down the stairs, heading home.

* * *

Ty stood in the middle of his room, velvet eyes gazing at the door. He closed it after a while and picked up the clothes. He looked around and put them into the wardrobe.  
Within the silence of the room, he listened to the ticking of the giant clockwork, beating almost like a heart. He blinked, stopping by the main control panel.  
The ticking was off a little bit. The clock was a bit ahead of time. It needed tweaking.  
He pulled the cover off of the panel, his deft fingers fumbling with the metal wheels.  
The ticking stopped and started again, this time in sync with the time.  
Ty put the cover back on the panel and crossed the room to sit on the bed by the wardrobe.  
This was where his old milady slept.  
His eyes gazed to the sun that had disappeared to allow the moon to rein over the sky.  
Ty's mind was empty but filled with thoughts at the same time.  
It was just like the clock tower itself; silent, yet still ticking.


End file.
